


numb feels like this

by teamfreeawesome



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crying, Depression, Liam-centric, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreeawesome/pseuds/teamfreeawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's <em>tired</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	numb feels like this

**Author's Note:**

> I finally got a bit of a break, and I was going to write the next bit of my chaptered fic. But this was _burning_ to be written, and it _hurt_.
> 
> I understand that depression is different for everyone - this draws only on my knowledge of my own experiences with it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not true. It's a work of fiction and no harm was meant by the writing of this. To me: fanfiction One Direction are fictional characters. I don’t, in any way, equate the stories to their real-life counter parts, because they aren’t the same people. Also, please, nobody send this to anyone included in this fic or anyone that they know.
> 
> Comments and kudos are like _sunshine_ <3

Liam feels fuzzy.

It’s like he’s wrapped in cotton wool, the air muffled and distorted around him as his heart beats steadily in his chest.

                                                _thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud_

He feels unsettled in his skin, eyelids rusted – heavy with a bone-deep weariness.

He’s tired.

University was supposed to be an _adventure_ – nights fluorescently bright as the beat pounds through his body, skin salty with exertion. Instead, it’s _endless_ (the heavy drag of his feet, placed one in front of the other). Liam gives _all_ of himself - works until his skin is crumbling beneath the pressure and his hands are left clutching uselessly at the distant reprieve of summer.

Liam is so _tired_.

 

*

 

He wakes up, sometimes, and it’s like the world is _crushing_ him. He blinks and the universe is too heavy for Liam to _breathe_.

His eyes sting, eyelashes fanned out under his eyebrows as he watches the minute hand tick slowly forward. His alarm springs to life, the shrill sound piercing through the still of the room – and Liam rolls over, kicking the clock to the floor as he goes. He listens to it ring, face pressed into the pillow – and it’s the only thing that feels _real_. He rubs the tip of his nose against the material beneath him and sighs into it.

He rolls back over and he’s lost an hour.

He only closed his eyes for a second.

He wonders idly if something is wrong.

 

*

 

Louis _bounces_ and Harry _smiles_ – and they’re both so happy it _hurts_.

It hurts under Liam’s _skin_ , like the scorching buzz of electricity peeling the muscle from his flesh. It’s a burn of

_i can’t cope_

 

*

 

He doesn’t revise.

Exams are looming – but he sits, knees pulled up against his chest, gaze _hollow_ \- and doesn’t revise.

His head droops, eyelids fluttering – and he startles awake to the realisation that he’s lost another hour.

He just wants it to get _easier_. It’s supposed to get _easier_.

It isn’t supposed to be this _hard_ to _breathe_. It isn’t supposed to be this hard to get out of bed.

It isn’t supposed to _hurt_ like this.

 

*

 

He doesn’t leave his bed for three days.

No one notices.

 

*

 

Liam cries.

He lies in bed, the dark a blanket of silence around him – and he cries. Great, gasping sobs are tugged from his chest, tears dribbling down his cheeks, rolling slowly like _desolation_ until they hit the pillow beneath him.

It doesn’t feel _good_.

It doesn’t feel like anything at all.

 

*

 

Louis asks him if he’s okay, his lips chapped and eyes worried.

“You look so _tired_ , Liam.”

And –

Liam _shatters_. He’s a dam breaking beneath the weight of the water behind him – and it _hurts_. He sobs, fingers clutching the hem of his own shirt as he fights to stay standing. His chest heaves with the effort of it, and his knees buckle. He slumps to the carpet, face twisted around a wailing sob, the _pain_ breaking free from his chest and ringing round the room.

Liam lets go.

He sobs and sobs until everything is _dry_. Until he’s hacking up _nothing_ , chest rattling around the _sting_ of it. The pain has been _wrung_ from him – and he’s left limp and tired.

He’s so _tired_.

“Lou. I’m – I don’t think I’m okay.” He says, voice cracking around the admission.

Because –

It’s an admission to himself too. He admits that he’s not okay. Accepts that he’s _allowed_ to not be okay.

Louis hugs him – and it doesn’t feel like _good_. But it doesn’t feel like _nothing_.

 

*

 

“I’m so _stupid_. Everything I do is so _stupid_. There isn’t even anything _wrong_ with me and I don’t understand why sometimes – sometimes I can’t even move a _step_ because the _whole_ of me is too _heavy_. Why the very idea of lifting pen to paper, or hearing someone speak in my vicinity makes me want to hide from the world _forever_. Like it’s _painful_. …

Like it’s _not_. Because – sometimes. Sometimes it’s just _empty_. I’m _empty_ and I – everything is _nothing_.”

 

*

 

He goes to counselling.

“How you feel is how you _feel_ , Liam. It’s not stupid.”

He cries less.

It’s good.

 

*

 

He tracks the time by how many days he goes without crying desperately into his pillow.

Sometimes he goes a week and everything is _fine_. It’s not _good_ , but it’s not _heartwrenching_. Like it was before.

Sometimes he can’t even go half a day before he’s weeping into his sheets - breath coming in short, sharp pants as he struggles with the pain.

He’s not even sure what happy is anymore.

 

*

 

“It’s okay to feel like crying, Liam. Breathe deep. We’re going to work through this.”

 

*

 

He finishes an assignment and something like _pride_ creeps in, his parents’ praise seeping in through the shell of him.

A crack appears. Light shimmers through – timid and wavery.

It feels warm.

 

*

 

He’s not _better_. But he’s less _sad_ and that’s good.

 

*

 

It’s not –

It’s not something that ever goes _away_. Sometimes it rears its ugly head twice in three months. Sometimes it’s a year and he laughs and smiles and really _feels_ it. Feels the happy in his bones.

Liam’s glad he didn’t forget happy forever.

 

*

 

He’s still friends with Harry and Louis.

They were his anchors, in the midst of the worst.

They still are.

 

*

 

Liam meets Zayn on a Friday at the pub – and it’s like _sunlight_. Zayn is like sunlight across Liam’s skin – and he wants to hold him gently (softly).

 

*

 

Zayn’s laugh is like burnt toast, all crackly and sharp. It’s _brilliant_.

He tells Zayn (hand warmed by his morning tea, the crumpled sweetness of Zayn in the seat opposite like soft waves lapping the shore) that he’s not always _good_.

Zayn understands.

 

*

 

Zayn is like a rosy sunset across the sky - his love a perfect, shining thing that fills Liam’s heart with _hope_. It’s a floating contentment that carries his weary bones.

And when he’s not okay –

Zayn doesn’t ask for a _solution_. He holds Liam through the worst and he smiles softly when it breaks.

 

*

 

It’s not always _perfect_. They fight and cry and scream, sometimes.

But – nothing ever is. Perfection is not always _perfect_. And Liam thinks Zayn is _perfection_.

 

 

*

 

Zayn kisses Liam and everything fades away.

They’re in love. 

**Author's Note:**

> No mean!Zayn this time - I'm so proud of myself ;)


End file.
